1st Year Adventures, Short Story 4, Stop Me If You've Heard This One
by PTMaskell
Summary: A boy rides a magical train to a magical school where a magical hat gets him attacked by a werewolf.


The train ride was either 10 hours or 20 seconds, I honestly couldn't tell which with my nose affixed firmly in what I'm assuming were my school books. The volume of my excitement was pitching over 11, and I couldn't hear the chatter for the children around me, nor the whistle for the train.

It wasn't long before I felt the urge to get up and queue along with my the others. My feet did the walking and the thinking as I had no thoughts to spare for the world around me outside the world I currently inhabited within my books.

The last set of shoulders vanished from my purview and I felt eyes boring into the back of my neck.

Glancing upward, I saw a belt buckle, glancing further, then further, and finally tilting my neck toward the sky I finally saw a long beard, twinkling eyes, and a smiling face. A two and a half meter tall beard and smiling face.

The lampposts dimmed, and the darkness wrapped itself around me like a blanket. And as the ground rushed toward me, I heard the giant man speak in a surprisingly pleasant tone, "Oop! One ev'rey year."

Cold, slightly salty air tickled my nose causing a slight twinge as the comforting darkness let slip its coil around me and I once again knew the world. I'd changed scenery slightly, and was in an unnaturally steady rowboat. The hushed lapping of the water against the water and slight momentum holding me in place told me we were moving forward, but I saw no-one rowing.

Instead the view seemed to be blocked by what I could only describe as a woolly wall.

The wall turned, and those oddly twinkling eyes and smiling beard greeted me once more.

I felt my eyes go wide and my jaw go slack. No words could be conjured, nor thoughts brought forth. This monster was either rowing me out to feed me to his lake beast, or I would end up on a spit over a fire, and there was not a putain thing I could do about it.

"Don' you worry, li'il first year, yer bag's been sent on ahead," he smiled again. His words took a moment for my stalled brain to process.

Booting my brain back up, I remembered that I was allegedly on my way to a magical school filled with, honestly I had no idea what to seriously expect.

The gigantic man seemed to remember something himself, "Oh!" he exclaimed before turning around and rummaging through the inside of his massive coat. He pulled something out, and I braced myself for a mammoth club over the tete, or worse, I clenched my eyes shut.

But nothing happened.

Opening my eyes slightly, I saw my book presented before me. His hand engulfed it almost entirely.

My eyes widened in surprise, and I finally smiled back at the oddly gentle giant. "Oh! Mercie! Thank you!"

"Yer welcome," that twinkle in his eyes never left. If I didn't know any better, I'd say that escorting the new students to the school was the height of this man's life. Looking around for a brief moment, I realized mine was just one of dozens of boats moving silently across a black lake toward a massive castle at the far end.

'Huh,' I thought, 'somehow I expected it to be bigger.'

Not long after my initial view of the somewhat small château, I once more dug myself firmly into my book.

After stepping out of the rower-less boats, we 'first years' were once more queued up. Standing in lines is all we seemed to be doing. An exceptionally old and dull female voice informed the group of us to wait until we were called into some hall, and then blah, blah blah, I hated waiting in lines.

It would take nothing more than the absolute threat of death to tear me from my book until evenings end.

I barely registered the group moving into a well-lit, likely sizable room filled with clapping psychopaths as if they'd just seen some grand show. 'Of course, they'd wait to bring us in only AFTER the entertainment was done.'

There was rabble, then words, and more cheering ahead of me. I was reading a text about turning desks into pigs. Why in the baise toujours amoureuse would I turn my attention away? This felt like when my parents went to renew their certifcat d'immatriculation for their vehicles. And nobody paid that much attention to the other patrons at the DMV.

"Couillard, Philipe," called a voice.

'Not interested,' I thought I said aloud, but the words were lost as I came across conjecture for transforming desks into pigs and then slaughtering them for food.

There was a slight murmur in the crowd.

"Couillard, Philipe," called the hag-like voice again. Still didn't want whatever you're selling, and I'm not going to draw attention to myself. The thoughts floated through the back of my mind, not noticing that someone had pinched the sleeve of my new black robes and was ushering me forward. My feet obeyed, but my mind was not even in the room. A mild chuckle rippled through the room.

My senses barely registered a stool under me, and a soft, if slightly smelly object placed on my head.

'Great, hazing. If I don't pay attention to it, I don't have to acknowledge it. Nobody has that kind of authority over me, and if this really was a magical school I was going to become the best of all of them. Every book would be read before semesters end, and their rules be damned!' my thoughts were racing as I buried myself further into to the book.

"Quite the mind in this one. Might excel in Ravenclaw," came a dubious voice from somewhere.

'Just ignore it,' came my own voice, pushing the intruder aside. It wasn't the first time some random voice started talking directly to me from seemingly nowhere. I'd learned to tune them out when I was just a small garçon.

"Determined for greatness, he is. Seems to me this one belongs in,"

"SLYTHERIN!" shouted the voice so loud, I felt myself flinch. But for the first time, it sounded like the voice was coming from the outside. A nearby table erupted into cheers. But just the one. A familiar tugging urged my feet to join the clapping and cheering lot at their table.

Ignoring all of it, I refused to vacate my mental foxhole, even after the rabble, and shouting ended. Even through what sounded like pigs invading a trough did I refuse to exit.

The man who spoke like a woman who sounded like a hagraven gave a speech at the head of the large room; something about obeying our teachers, and forgiving their unfamiliar quirks, and the unexpected absence of someone named 'Flitwick'? slid in one ear and out the other.

Once again we queued up. I groaned inward.

Someone who sounded way too young to be in charge of such a large group of children escorted myself and the others from our table away from the Hall. The temperature slowly dropped in the five minutes it took us to descend several flights of stairs, and what felt like back toward the lake if my sense of direction was right, despite my attention firmly in my book.

My feet felt like I was heading up the rear of the group, so I allowed myself some space before the rest of the group ahead of me. Before long I was barely keeping up with them. A vague shouting led me to catch up to the them. An bare stretch of wall opened up at a portcullis.

I was just about to allow my feet to make the step over the entrance when a deafening wolf-like howl like nothing I'd ever heard split the air like shattering glass.

I snapped my head up.

Fur.

Jaws.

Teeth.

Blood.

Screaming. My screaming.

I was screaming almost as loudly as the supernaturally large, and strangely human-shaped wolf that was howling directly in my face.

My right hand was suddenly gripping the white Aspen stick I'd purchased earlier that day, but had not used at all yet. These things were supposed to be magic, right? Well it better save my life!

And I did what any sensible, screaming 11-year-old would do.

I shoved the stick right into the werewolves salivating mouth, twisted, and yanked it away as my feet instinctively turned and started running because my life did truly depend on it.

There's no telling how long I ran or in how many circles around the dungeon I went, but I found myself cowering in what was at one point a classroom. There was no door, the cobwebs were ancient, and there was only one desk with a chair stacked upside down on it. I was tucked tightly into the darkest corner gripping my wand tightly.

It wasn't long before the adrenaline caught up with me and I passed out in the shadows. I didn't get eaten that night.

A slight 'pop' woke me to find my side satchel brimming with books sat next to me, and the room dusted clean and clear of cobwebs. The desk that had been stacked with the chair was clean, and ready to be used. A chittering from my robes was the only warning I got before my pet red squirrel, Timothy, emerged bleary eyed. He'd obviously slept through the train ride and the events of the evening.

'How,' never entered my mind. This was a magical school, and Timothy, at a guess, was also magical now that I thought about it. He crawled onto my shoulder, adorned in full armor with a large sword attached to his back, and looked me in the eye expectantly. We were both hungry.

I stood and stretched. Feeling a slight ache in my back from sleeping so awkwardly after-

Oh that's right. I was chased by a, a werewolf? The mere thought of it was insane. I realized I was still gripping my wand.

I felt my blood run cold as I slowly held the tip up for closer inspection. I really, truly wished my eyes were playing tricks on me.

There, at the tip of my wand. Was an elongated fang, snapped off at the gum-line, still dripping blood. Even Timothy shrank back at the sight, and he was one of the bravest people I knew.

The faintest shuffle of feet and the chatter of children from a nearby, adjoining hall caught my attention. I heard someone, a younger student should, "Breakfast! YES!" followed by a raucous round of laughter at the outburst.

Breakfast did sound good. Sticking closely to the wall in case of werewolf attack, I made my way to the passing group, waiting until they had for sure all passed and rushed my way into the rear of the den of snakes judging by the looks of the green badges they all wore.

Glancing downward at my own robes, 'Correction, we wore.'

"There's the one now!" an abrupt interruption into my thought clapped a voice as I followed my fellow Slytherin's to the table I'm assuming we were sitting at last night. The voice was ancient, but friendly and familiar. Shaking off the momentary fright, I turned and saw Mrs. Ollivander, the nice man from the wand shop who sold me the Aspen stick that was effectively useless now.

A crow-like woman with a tall green, pointed hat was standing with him, she gave me a dismissive look and turned away, leaving me with the wandmaker.

"Well young man, show me your wand," he said somewhat sternly. Feeling slightly ashamed at the damage I'd done to it in less than a day, I pulled it from the inside of my left sleeve where I'd absentmindedly stuck it.

Before it was barely in sight, he plucked it from my fingers and began examining it.

"Ah yes, Aspen. Dragon-heartstring, pliant. Formerly 10 and three-quarter inches long," he looked closely at the fang stick out from the end, "Currently 11 and a half," he stated as if it were an everyday occurrence to find a tooth jutting from a stick.

Giving it a quick flick, he frowned at the lack of result. "Ah, the werewolf tooth is acting as a polarizing, secondary core. They need to be bound." He reached into his suit jacket pocket and retrieved a length of hair. "Ah, Chimera Mane. No greater beast better represents dual nature than the Chimera: lion at the head, wings of an eagle, and the tail of a snake. Somewhat like Hogwarts herself."

Ollivander busied himself for a moment, winding the hair from tooth to tail, creating an elaborate weave, firmly in place. After a brief inspection, he smiled a knowing smile, and gave it back to me. "Go on, give it a flick."

The moment my fingers touched the repaired wand I felt that rush again, this time stronger than before. Like the wind around me rushed up from the ground and through my hand.

"Haha! Marvelous. I can always tell when one of my wands is in distress. I came as soon as I felt it. You enjoy your time here at Hogwarts, young man. I have a feeling you're going to need that wand."

The air around me still buzzed with anticipation. The wand had energized me. I think maybe he was right.

Looking around the Great Hall for the first real time, I finally felt like I had found my true home.


End file.
